


long black night/morning frost/i'm still here/but all is lost

by Anonymous



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asthma, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug Use, Gen, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Medical Procedures, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Alternating, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Therapy, YEAH YALL JUNO GOES TO THERAPY, complex ptsd to be precise, getting better, set during season 2 but not finale compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “He came home about ninety minutes ago. I found him mostly unconscious, missing his coat, holding his inhaler. He needs a breathing treatment. He calmed down enough at one point to tell me someone slipped him something while he was out drinking, and he implied he was, well, assaulted.” Rex’s long fingers were clasped in front of him, fidgeting.“Sexually?”Both Rita and Rex flinched.Rex visibly pulled himself together. “Yes. Physically too, if his bruises have anything to say about it.”





	long black night/morning frost/i'm still here/but all is lost

**Author's Note:**

> please take care - this story very explicitly deals with the aftermath of rape
> 
> title from "cry for judas" by the mountain goats

Juno comes to alone in an alleyway, so at first he counts it as a win in his book. Not kidnapped is always better than kidnapped, so he should probably just dust himself off and head home. His head hurts, _and that’s a fact._ He shakes his head to clear it, as if he can shake Takano’s voice out of his head, and has to close his eyes again against the wave of dizziness. He’s shivering, so his coat is probably gone. Fuck. That was a good coat.

 

He’d been drinking, he is sure of that much. His memories aren’t clear in the last twelve or so hours, since he sent Rita home from the office and screwed the top off a cheap plastic bottle of whiskey. At some point, he probably decided to go to a bar. Probably the bar around the corner that… He doesn’t know. _Have you helped anyone today?_ is ringing, ringing, ringing in his ears and he’s pretty sure he went to the closest place with alcohol and shifty people in the back who would sell him some pills.

 

Pills? He groans. Peter would not be happy. Juno gets flashes, of being too close to someone else, of feeling like his arms were too light, his head a balloon, words stuck in his throat –

 

He can work out what happened later. He’s still lying on concrete and the gray pre-dawn light is beginning to illuminate the street he can see at the entrance to the alley. Sit up. Sit up. Sit up.

 

Juno drags himself over to the side of the alley, leaning against a building, head spinning and gasping for air. He needs his inhaler, but his coat is gone. Thirty-nine years old, and still passing out in random alleyways. No comms, no coat, no inhaler, no blaster. Fuck. He’s fast and scrappy, even with alcohol slowing him down – how had someone gotten the jump on him this badly?

 

Drawing his knees to his forehead, he focuses on breathing. Rita’s voice echoes in his head that _mistah steel, you know that closes up your lungs,_ but he doesn’t really care.

 

He finally notices his pants are unzipped, pulled down to mid thigh. He freezes. _It’s a fact…_

 

Nope. Time to go. He needs to get out of here right the fuck now. He can think later. Or never. Drawing on sheer willpower, and only falling over twice, he makes it out of the alley.

 

***

 

Peter wakes up early, and frowns to find Juno still not home. He had gotten in from the Cerberus province late the night before after finishing a simple job, expecting Juno to be sprawled on top of the blankets like he normally slept. But Juno hadn’t been there.  It wasn’t altogether unusual. Sometimes Juno stuck around the office late, or had some stakeout or other.  

 

Peter decides to shower, and if Juno still isn’t home after that, he’d go ahead and track Juno’s comms. Humming to himself, he hears the front door open and shut. There, his grumpy PI was finally home. Smiling, Peter finishes showering and steps out of the bathroom, expecting to see a tired but happy Juno waiting for him in the living room.

 

“Hello, Juno dear-“ Peter stops.

 

Juno is sprawled by the door, unconscious, red inhaler in one hand. He is bruised, his remaining eye was swollen nearly shut, and his coat is missing. He has scrapes all up his arms, and his shirt is torn at the collar, revealing a large, insistent hickey. Peter’s heart falls.

 

Peter is to him in an instant, checking his pulse and feeling for broken bones. “Juno, Juno, love, what happened?” he mutters. An assault? Or… something else?

 

So softly, Peter can hardly hear, “Please let me go, Jack. I’ll be good.” Juno’s eye is open, roving wildly, breath picking up towards hyperventilating. “I promise, please don’t –“

 

Peter raises his hands, backing away. Who was Jack? Peter could have sworn Juno’s voice sounded childlike. “Juno, dear, you’re in your apartment. It’s me, Peter. It’s Nureyev. I am not Jack. Jack is not here. I need you to calm down now so I can make sure you’re okay. Can you do that?”

 

A blink of lucidity. “Nureyev?”

 

“Yes, Juno.”

 

Juno shakes his head fiercely as if to clear it, and Peter has to resist reaching out to steady him. “I don’t think I can stand. Can you-“

 

“Will you be okay if I touch you?”

 

Juno looks away. “Yeah.”

 

Peter takes him under the arms – the PI has always been small – and sets him down on the couch. Peter gingerly sits next to him.

 

“Peter?”

 

“Yes, Juno?”

 

Juno curls up onto himself, knees touching his forehead. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He rocks back and forth.

 

“What are you sorry for, Juno?” It’s not accusatory – Peter really wants to know what happened, but Juno only seems able to repeat how sorry he is, sobbing with his face hidden.

 

“I’m going to get you some painkillers and some tea,” Peter decides.

 

***

 

_You can count on Jack. You can count on Jack_. Peter’s face is swimming and he knows Takano/Ramses/Jack can’t hurt him any more but the _voice_ and _hands_ keep echoing through his body and he flinches when Peter returns with the tea.

 

“Juno, I – “

 

“I went to the bar last night and drank too much and probably took some pills or something stupid and woke up in an alley with all of my stuff stolen and my pants around my knees.” Juno’s voice is flat as he looks up at Peter.

 

“Probably took some pills?” Peter is hesitant. Juno’s stomach twists. Peter doesn’t want to believe the worst in him.

 

“Yeah. I don’t remember much. Just the first drink and then waking up in the alley.”

 

“So you don’t remember…” Peter gestures uselessly to Juno’s neck. Juno’s fingers fly up, pressing the bruise hard.

 

“No.” The pieces clicked into place. _It’s a fact._ He’s a piece of shit, drowning in his own stupidity.

 

Peter is silent a while. Juno can’t stand it. “I didn’t mean to.”

 

“Juno-“

 

“No, Nureyev, I’m sorry, I did something stupid I can’t remember, what else is new. I cheated on you. You should leave.”

 

Peter seems speechless. “Do you want me to leave?” His face is shuttered, carefully neutral.

 

“No,” Juno admits, unable to meet Peter’s wide eyes. “If I get a choice here I would rather you fucking hit me or beat me or something, just punish me and stay, but I don’t get a choice. I shouldn’t.”

 

“Juno, I would never hit you-“

 

Juno curls up even smaller. His voice sounds small again, like he’s asking Jack to stop. But he knows _it’s a fact._ “Everyone says that.” Everyone had. Ma, swearing she’d never do it again after every time she left bruises. Diamond, their flashy ring catching Juno across the face and their arms catching Juno before he hits the floor, apologizing already -

 

Peter stands up with exaggerated care, turns away from Juno, and punches a wall. The plaster doesn’t break.

 

Juno yelps and tries to scramble over the arm of the couch, landing heavily on the synthwood floor. He waits, breathing heavily, curled up like a pillbug to protect his arms and face. It’s going to start now. Everyone says they won’t, but they do, because he’s a _little monster_ and _it’s a fact._ He deserves everything everyone does to him, that and more, he shouldn’t be alive, he’s fucked up everything in his life, and it feels like Ma is right there and no no no no no Jack no -

***

 

“Please don’t, Ma, please, I didn’t mean to let him – please, don’t, Jack, stop – “

 

Peter Nureyev hasn’t felt this much guilt since he left Mag’s body bleeding in New Kinshasa. Juno is curled up and muttering to himself, rocking back and forth, small body tensed like a blow could come at any second. Because of him. Because he couldn’t control his fucking anger at everyone who had ever laid a hand on Juno Steel.

 

Juno had been assaulted, drugged probably, and was in the middle of some sort of trauma flashback because of it. Peter knows about his mother, his brother, and the trauma Juno carries like a chip on his shoulder and refuses to do anything about. _Jack_ had never come up before.

 

Peter kneels beside Juno, carefully not touching him. “Juno?” he asks quietly. “Can you breathe with me for a while? I won’t touch you, I promise.”

 

Juno’s eye peers up at him, seeming to recognize him. “Peter?”

 

“Listen to me. You did not cheat on me. You were drugged and someone hurt you. I love you and this does not change that.”

 

Juno says nothing, eye blinking shut, but he shakes a little less.

 

“Okay, dear. Breathe in-two-three-four…”

 

Fifteen or so minutes later, Juno has uncurled himself somewhat and doesn’t seem in imminent danger of hyperventilating.

 

“You’re doing so well, love. I’m going to go get your car and we’re going to go to the hospital, all right?” Peter starts to stand, but Juno grabs at his arm.

 

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” Juno sounds desperate, breath speeding up again.

 

“Okay. Of course, dear. I’ll be right here.” With the hand in his pocket, Peter types a message to Rita.

 

JUNO HURT. NEEDS HOSPITAL. COME QUICKLY.  He presses send and strokes his thumb over Juno’s hand still gripping his forearm.

 

***

Rita is making herself a smoothie and packing up her big red lunchbox with all her office snacks when her phone buzzes. She honestly wishes she were more surprised. She saw how the boss looked last night – like he’d figure out some way to get hurt even if he had to do it himself.

 

She’s glad Rex is with him. When he isn’t, Rita worries about Juno, dead in his own apartment or something. It ain’t exactly a relaxing work environment.

 

***

 

Peter has no goddamn clue how long it takes before Rita bursts through the door. Juno flinches at the sound of the door, but relaxes when he hears Rita’s voice.

 

“Hey boss, heard you ain’t doin’ too great. Didja get hurt on a case? I told you not to go into a knife fight with a blaster. Or was it the other way around?”

 

“Yeah. A case,” Juno says quietly.

 

Rita doesn’t pause, “Anyway, let’s get ya to Hyperion General. Good to see ya, Rex! You know, we ought to get dinner more often, I got lotsa dirt on Mistah Steel here, there are some real embarrassing yearbook photos out there - ” Continuing to talk at both of them, she starts bustling around Juno, getting a blanket – why hadn’t Peter thought to get a blanket? – to wrap around his shoulders and gently frogmarches him towards the front door.

 

She doesn’t ask what happened, doesn’t linger over bruises or hickeys or still-unzipped pants. Rita doesn’t even try to look Peter in the eyes. Peter thanks several deities and hurries after her to her car.

 

***

 

When they get to the hospital, Rita makes Rex park the car. She has the file of Mistah Steel’s medical history on her comms, and Rex doesn’t, and anyway she’s been here before like this, lowering him into an uncomfortable ER chair. He’s not particularly unconscious but he can’t hold his head up. She fills out the paperwork as he mumbles to himself. He smells like whiskey and blood and the bitter smell of his asthma inhaler.

 

When the triage nurse comes over, Rita holds Juno’s hand as long as she can. “Don’t fall asleep, Mistah Steel,” she says, snapping her fingers in his face. He doesn’t move, and Rita’s heart lurches.

 

“He’s unconscious,” the triage nurse says brusquely. “You know what happened to this man?”

 

“Lady, actually.” Rita hesitates, a first for her. “His boyfriend knows more, he’s on his way in now.”

 

Luckily, Rex takes that as his cue to run through the hospital doors. He looks more disheveled than Rita has ever seen him, still-damp hair sticking to his face.

 

“You’re the boyfriend?” The triage nurse seemed bored as he reached over to take a blood sample from Juno, who didn’t react or flinch. Bored was a good sign, right? Bored meant not dying, hopefully.

 

“Yes.”

 

Huh. That was interesting. Good to know they were finally admitting their love. Rita has been trying to very subtly drop hints that she wants to be maid of honor at their wedding for the last six months, but she’s pretty sure Juno isn’t getting the hint. He definitely isn’t right now.

 

“He came home about ninety minutes ago. I found him mostly unconscious, missing his coat, holding his inhaler. He needs a breathing treatment. He calmed down enough at one point to tell me someone slipped him something while he was out drinking, and he implied he was, well, assaulted.” Rex’s long fingers were clasped in front of him, fidgeting.

 

“Sexually?”

 

Both Rita and Rex flinched.

 

Rex visibly pulled himself together. “Yes. Physically too, if his bruises have anything to say about it.”

 

For once, Rita is happy to stay quiet.

 

***

 

Juno has no idea how he got to the hospital. But this is definitely a hospital. There’s an IV in his battered and bruised arm, and he’s not wearing his clothes. He’s uncomfortably reminded of the time Mick’s dad took him to Oldtown General after he overdosed and collapsed in Mick’s living room. Looking over, Nureyev is wide awake in an uncomfortable chair.

 

“Peter?” Juno says.

 

“Stay still, darling. Don’t sit up.” A wide hand presses on his bony shoulder.

 

“Peter,” Juno says dumbly. His body aches all over and he wonders if he was hit by a car. “What happened?”

 

“You’ve been here for about twelve hours, Juno,” Peter says, hand moving towards Juno’s hair like he wants to run his fingers through it and at the last second diverting to stroke the thin blanket. “You passed out right when Rita and I got you here. Remember?”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes, that makes sense. You’ve had a difficult twenty-four hours.”

 

Silence stretches out. Juno gathers the scraps of memory from the night before, creates a story. A story where he is the villain. Juno’s eye wells up with tears and he turns on his side away from Nureyev.

 

“I’m sorry, Nureyev. You don’t deserve this. If you need to leave, just go, I can figure all of this out.”

 

“I told you last night, darling. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Juno won’t look back. He doesn’t deserve absolution, and he knows he’ll find it on Peter’s face. He is a dirty cheater, like Diamond, and _that’s a fact._ A full body chill runs through him.

 

“So what’s the damage?” Juno’s voice is flat.

 

“A cracked rib, bruising on your hips, a cut that needed a stitch on your left arm, and a couple of nebulizer treatments for the asthma. Luckily, nothing internal is bleeding. They’re running a few STI panels now, but so far everything has come back negative.” Peter lists these confidently, without hesitation.

 

“Do they know what the drug was?” Juno resists the temptation to bring his knees up to his chin, bony back still to Nureyev.

 

“Not yet. They’re still running tox screens. It’s possible that whatever it was faded from your system too quickly to catch.” Juno hears a shift and knows Peter has leaned forward in his chair. “Juno, you don’t remember –“

 

“No. I don’t remember anyone buying me a drink. It could have been anyone.” Juno honestly doesn’t care who it was. He wants Nureyev to be angry at him. To hit him, for being so fucking stupid that he got roofied like a teenager. For being – well.

 

Raped. Drugged. Raped. Again.

 

Juno’s brain is spiraling when Peter asks a question.

 

***

 

Peter doesn’t mean to ask.

 

“Juno, who is Jack?”

 

Peter sees Juno’s back stiffen, and knows it was the wrong thing to say.

 

“Wait – Juno, love, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” Peter is backpedaling, wanting nothing more than to lay a hand on Juno’s exposed shoulder blade.

 

Juno trembles, back stiff. By the shake of his shoulders, Peter guesses he is crying.

 

“May I touch you, sweetheart?” Peter asks gently.

 

Juno shakes his head but rolls onto his back. Peter retreats to his chair. “Did I say something. While I was drugged.” Juno’s voice is flat, brown eyes fixed on the white ceiling.

 

“You kept asking him to stop. Was he – did he – is Jack the person who hurt you last night?” Peter is out of his depth. None of his alter egos – not Rex, not Duke, not Perseus – have ever dealt with this. Peter only has foggy memories of a childhood on Brahma and whispers of what went on in dark alleys.  

 

Juno barks out a humorless laugh. “No. Not last night.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me – “ Peter hastens to say.

 

“Remember the Ramses O’Flaherty case? Ramses used to be Jack Takano, the man who stole from my mother and ruined our lives. He, well. He hurt me other ways too, until I was four. Touched me, and uh, I only remembered that last summer, trying to get that goddamn Theia Spectrum out of my head. Recovered memories, or something.” Juno is emotionless.

 

“Oh, Juno,” Peter breathes. He wants so badly to reach out, but Juno looks like he could shatter at the slightest provocation. Perhaps shattering would be best.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Juno’s eyes are shut tight.

 

Peter only nods.

 

***

 

Rex leaves Juno’s side for the first time in two days when Rita physically shoves him out of the room. Juno is sleeping, and Rita is wide awake, so there’s no reason Rex can’t go and get some snacks. Both for him to eat and for her. She is out of snacks. It’s a dire situation.

 

“Eat some food, Agent Glass,” she’d insisted. “Or do Dark Matters spooks not need to eat? The cafeteria here is real nice!”

 

Of course, ten minutes after Glass’s frankly admirable backside disappeared through the hospital room door, Juno begins to twitch and mumble. Rita has nearly finished her text to Rex about exactly how to acquire her salmon puff snacks from the cafeteria when Juno screams.

 

Juno is curled up in a corner of his hospital bed. After the first animalistic scream, he starts to cry like a little child.

 

Rita isn’t stupid. She met Mistah Steel only a year or so after his brother died. She’s seen him fall asleep at the office and locked him in his apartment when he was sick. She’s even bandaged him up after he pretended Diamond’s bruises were from a criminal who got the jump on him. She’s heard him have night terrors. She’s heard him sob over his ma and his brother. This is different.

 

So she doesn’t overthink it. She slides off her pink light-up shoes and crawls up onto the hospital bed and gathers her boss into her lap, carding her hands through his curly hair. He’s still asleep, still whimpering and whispering _please Jack no,_ but his breathing gets more even.

 

Jack. Jack Takano. Ramses O’Flaherty. Please no. Rita’s brain makes connections that she quickly resolves to never bring up. She holds Juno to her a little tighter.

 

A nurse pokes her head in. “Panic attack?” she asks.

 

“Night terror, I think,” Rita says quietly. She won’t mention the

 

The nurse nods and shuts the door.

 

***

 

When Peter returns, he sees Rita petting Juno’s hair and Juno’s even breathing. Rita gives him a tight-lipped smile. Putting the bag of salmon puffs aside, Peter resumes his vigil over the two. If a tear slips down his cheeks, no one comments.

 

***

 

Juno doesn’t feel like Mars is swallowing him whole when he wakes up in Rita’s arms. Not that he’d ever admit it to her or Peter.

 

A day later, Juno is marched into a therapist’s office as a condition of his release from the hospital. Both Rita and Peter are in the waiting room.

 

Rita had squeezed his hand before he went in. “Mistah Steel, you gotta talk to them,” she said softly.

 

“But – “

 

“No, boss. You got too much trapped up in your head and I’m afraid you’re gonna explode! Like, boom! Like in that one stream, _Evil Scientists of the Dark Side of the Moons of Saturn,_ where the scientists pump people’s heads full of chemicals - ”

 

Juno nods, but he is undecided. _You’re a little monster_. Monsters don’t get to bother other people with their problems.

 

Peter still hasn’t touched him since punching the wall at his apartment. Juno is beginning to resign himself to Nureyev thinking he is disgusting and tainted – it was really only a matter of time.

 

Which is why he is surprised when Nureyev catches his hand before Juno enters the therapist’s office. Juno looks up at him. Peter looks lost. Childlike.

 

“Can I –“

 

Juno nods. No one ever said he wasn’t selfish. _It’s a fact._

 

Peter holds him close and kisses his forehead. “I love you.” Pulling back, Peter pins Juno in place with his intent gaze. “I need you to do what you need to do to get better.”

 

Juno swallows down a retort about drinking himself to death. It would not go over well. Instead, he nods dumbly and opens the door. Maybe he can do this. He can try. He’s done it before, and he’ll do it again.


End file.
